


This is CNN

by MissAtomicBomb77



Category: The Newsroom (US TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-26
Updated: 2014-12-26
Packaged: 2018-03-03 14:28:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 6,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2854184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissAtomicBomb77/pseuds/MissAtomicBomb77
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was written for kenzie-mchale on Tumblr as part of The Newsroom Secret Santa. I haven't written Will/Mac in a while and of course, I couldn't leave my darlings out - they're in the last chapter.</p><p>This is an attempt to fill in some of the time where Will and Mac were working at/for CNN.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Friday, 14 October 2005

Friday, 14 October 2005  
Afternoon  
CNN Studios, Time Warner Center  
New York, New York

Brad Richards is a personable enough guy. He deals with people all day every day and for the most part, has no trouble with it. As the Executive Producer of CNN’s American Morning for the last three years and since the show’s inception, he’s seen his share of folks come and go on his staff. He hadn’t fired anybody in over a year and most of the movement on the staff was career advancement. When he got the call from upstairs to make room for a new Associate Producer, he stiffened a bit.

After a few conversations with management and rather lengthy conversations about the candidate in question, he relented, but positively. She was technically an American, she had international experience with the company and that was something he was a little short on in the current incarnation of his staff. It didn’t hurt that she had personal connections in the British government either, but it was made clear to him that it was her place to trade on that before he could ask her to do so.

He loitered in the lobby and wasn’t disappointed by a late arrival. It was a Friday afternoon, so there were not the kinds of crowds as usual to obstruct her arrival. He thinks of Rosalind Russell, with her determined face and the little flair of her nose. Her brown hair is styled just above the shoulders and frames her face nicely. She’s got a shoulder bag and handbag and this long chocolate colored coat that seems just a size too big on her frame. It’s a good coat and he’d hazard it was a gift from someone that doesn’t see her frequently, a sister perhaps. Her mother possibly. She has a confidant stride as she approaches the security desk and is directed towards him. 

"Good afternoon Ms. McHale." Brad offers a hand out.

"Please, Mackenzie is fine."

He likes her handshake and is a little surprised by the accent. “Would you like a coffee from the shop here before we head up?”

"No, I actually had a water in the cab on the way over."

He starts to lead her away from the lobby and she follows without hesitation. “Are you settled in yet?”

"Not really, no. I’ve been stateside for about ten days and was sleeping on the couch of a childhood friend. She’s based in Washington, I really hadn’t started looking for any place until I knew where I was going to land."

"Hotel for now?"

"Yeah, been looking for a place in Midtown."

The security guards waved them through and he leads her to the elevators. “I don’t know if anyone’s really talked to you about your… trajectory here. Have you thought about that at all?”

They step into the elevator. “My goal was to get stateside, really.”

"Well, you’ve accomplished that. What else?"

"I don’t want to say that there’s no opportunity in London; but I need some time under belt on an actual program and not just running news without any coherent agenda."

"They are different beasts, I’ll grant you that. Yet you were only over there for a year." As the elevator moves up to their destination, he elaborates. "Were you promised something that couldn’t be delivered?"

"No, it was more personal than that. My father, he had a health scare and the family circled the wagons. It wasn’t for nothing, but he’s in a good place now."

Brad had done some light reading on her father, but that particular tidbit did not come to mind. Probably because the family didn’t want his health issues publicly known; he moves on. “This is 180 minutes of television that is having difficulty finding an audience. Lacking what you want; cohesiveness. “

"I had been made aware of that."

Brad nods as they arrive to their floor. “You’re going to see that this isn’t your ordinary morning program. Not soft news, but a focus on real news. Domestic and international. Which is why this should be a good fit for you.”

Mackenzie bobs her head in agreement. “Political stories as well?”

“Of course. This is news, in the morning born by fire, a radical concept compared to the yak of Matt Lauer and whomever they’ve stuck him with.”

“How’s Miles O’Brien working out for you?”

“He and Soledad, well, they’re not perfect but at least they’re reasonable with each other and I’ll take it. Just like moving into this building, it’s one of many changes this summer.”

“She wears the pants?” Mackenzie asks.

“Yeah, and for the most part, he lets her have and well, I’m not here to play parent to them. Only to my Associate Producers. I need something from you on what’s going on in Israel on Monday. What do you know off the top of your head?”

“Things are not looking good for the Fatah.”

“Two minutes and change on that, and a new two minutes each day for a while. Plus I need you to do all the corporate stuff by the end of the week, okay?” He drops his voice a notch. “You know that you’re a touch over qualified for this stuff, right?”

"A girl has got to eat. Not to mention that there’s been a lot of programming shifts going on lately. Besides, I’d rather AP on a daily show than EP a weekend show."

"But if a weekend show became available?"

"It’d have to be the right weekend show."

"Fair enough. New hire seminar on Monday in the afternoon. Granted, the only useful thing there is where the bathrooms are and if you wait that long to find out, you’re not a journalist.”

"Where are the bathrooms?"

"Down the hall by the elevators."


	2. Wednesday, 19 October 2005

Wednesday, 19 October 2005  
Afternoon  
CNN Studios, Time Warner Center  
New York, New York

He should feel bad that he has to dump something on her desk already, without even a week under her belt, but does anyway because she’s available. “Mackenzie, I need you to produce a segment for tomorrow morning for me. Everyone’s tripping over themselves about Hurricane Wilma.”

"Why me?"

"Because you’re here."

"There’s an answer."

Brad hands her some folders. “We’ve already booked the guest, so at least you don’t have to worry about that. It being your first week and all.”

She half smiles at Brad as she takes the folders and opens the top one looking at the glossy photo inside. She doesn’t like the fact that some guest is being dumped on her. “Who is this now?”

“His name is William McAvoy, he’s a soon to be former prosecutor the Brooklyn District Attorney’s office.”

“Why do I know that name?” She bites her lower lip as she scans his bio page.

“9/11.”

“I’m sorry?” She raises her head to look at her Executive Producer.

“He was on the air the morning of 9/11 on ACN.”

“If he was on the air the morning of 9/11 on ACN why is he-“

“He was just a Legal Correspondent then. It was Election Day in New York City and he was going to be on talking about voter – anyway. 9/11 and after that turn he made it his personal mission to keep violent crimes, well, local. Even became an Assistant District Attorney and now that he’s done with that, he’s making some rounds on the news shows.”

"He’s done with that?" She asks, looking at Brad intently.

"Mostly done with that. He’s stepping down effective the end of November. Not a lot of options when it’s shaping up that your potential new boss is on the other side of the political spectrum, now is there?”

“That shouldn’t matter in a court of law. The politics of one person should have influence over-“

“Talk to him Mackenzie, not to me.”

“Well, he’s not hard on the eyes.”

“Unlike some of his counterparts. Plus he’s like, an All American Corn-fed Husker Nebraska Football Guy.”

“I heard what you said and I know what those words mean, but I have no idea what any of those words mean together.”

“Just an all-around good guy. I thought you were American.”

“I was born here thereby making me an American.”

“Yeah, alright. Anyway, I want him on the trial of Saddam Hussein. Is that legal, what the ramifications are on that, so on. Plan for four minutes in the second hour, but be prepared to slide two minutes in either direction.”

“Why me?”

“You’re not bogged down yet.”


	3. Thursday, 20 October 2005

Thursday, 20 October 2005  
Early Morning   
CNN Studios, Time Warner Center  
New York, New York

"I’m looking for a Ms. McHale?" Will McAvoy smoothed his suit absently after he asks the question.

The associate producer he asked nods. “The new gal. Over there, towards the center of the room. British accent.”

Will does his best not to roll his eyes at the thought of having to deal with a person that’s been dubbed ‘The New Girl’. He takes a deep breath and makes a note to talk to Brad about that later. He unbuttons his dark blue suit jacket and sticks his hands in his pockets as he walks over, in an attempt to be nonthreatening. As he closes the distance, she spins on her heel and smiles at him with a level of confidence that makes him think ‘New Gal’ is not an inexperienced ‘New Gal’.

"Mr. McAvoy. I’m Mackenzie McHale." She offers her hand out at once and he shakes it.  
His lips curl at a smile. She’s got a decent handshake on her. “Ms. McHale.”

"Please, call me Mackenzie. I’m sorry we didn’t get to talk in person yesterday, but pleased to see that you were able to come up a bit early."

"Well, we hadn’t worked together before, it was the least I could do."

"You’re my first guest here. I’ve just come over from London and they needed someone to jump in. So here we are."

"London?"

"Yes, well, I was working for CNN International, but now I’m home."

"With your accent, I wouldn’t have pegged this as your home."

"Oh, yes, well, I was born here, and I concede that I haven’t been stateside in a year, but this is my home, I promise. Let’s get over to hair and makeup and we can chat, hmm?"

"Sure thing."


	4. Sunday, 6 November 2005

Sunday, 6 November 2005  
Mid-Morning  
CNN Studios, Time Warner Center  
New York, New York

"Thanks for coming in." Brad tells her as she enters the conference room.

"No problem. I just came from church." Mackenzie peels her coat off and dumps it on her chair before she takes a seat in his office.

He nods. “So I’m looking at some of the stuff that you’re working on.”

"Anything wrong with?"

"No, quite the contrary. You’re not afraid to dig in on something, I’ll give you that. I just want you to develop some stories where we can get a guest in the chair as well. Some interaction between the anchors and an expert. Viewers like to feel like they’re the ones asking the questions, not just being lectured at. There are reports that there’s voter fraud in the Azerbaijan elections. Maybe you can bring in Will McAvoy.”

"Yeah sure. McAvoy, though? International law isn’t really his background."

"He liked you."

"I didn’t do anything extraordinary."

"I didn’t think you did, but getting praise out of him is like pulling teeth. Also, keep tabs if we get any international reaction, Blair, Merkel, etc."

"I really don’t think that he’s a good fit for this."

Brad leans back in his desk chair. “Do you think he could handle some election coverage?”

She looks contemplative. “It’s going to be pretty quiet, but I think he might be good in case any legal issues come up.”

"Yeah."

Mackenzie nods. “Sure. Anything else?”

"Nah, but we’ll balance your workload a little bit better later this month."


	5. Tuesday, 15 November 2005

Tuesday, 15 November 2005  
Afternoon  
CNN Studios, Time Warner Center  
New York, New York

"Really?" Mackenzie asks, breaking her concentration from the newspapers in front of her.

"Really." Brad responds. "The feedback is good. I mean, for Will. We’re still struggling with overall viewership, but the ones that we have like him. They also like Sunny Hostin, but I’m not to account for taste. So, it looks like Sony is in a bit of trouble."

"The CD protection software.” She retorts. She smiles and flashes the newspaper she was holding towards Brad.

"You might be treading on tech’s turf with that kind of knowledge." He smiles at her.

“You would like to think that, but I could not begin to explain to the actual mechanics of what in fact copy protection software is and why it’s considered evil.” She lets out a burst of air that ruffles her bangs. “I read this stuff in hopes of understanding it and I really just don’t.”

“I know Dan Kaminsky. If you want I could set up a lunch-“

Mackenzie raises her hand. “I wasn’t looking for a crash course specifically in the tech-unless you need me to-“ 

“I don’t need you to be an expert in technology that Sony was using.”

“Okay, all well and good then.” She sighs audibly and slides into one of the guest chairs in his office. “What’s going on?”

Now it’s Brad’s turn to sigh. “I may have jumped the gun a bit in hiring you for the hard news. It’s been a tough sell to the folks upstairs.”

She grimaces. 

“I’m not giving up on it. You know how this works; they don’t care about content, they care about ratings and if the content they don’t care about doesn’t attract viewers, they’ll want to mess with the content. The last thing I want is them messing with the content. So we’re going to play a little game, you and me. One for them, one for us.”

“I don’t understand-“

“For every one of your good stories, I need a-“

“Puff piece.”

“Friendly piece. Think of it as a way to build an audience for the stories you want them to hear. They hear your name and remember that you wrote that great story on kittens or something equally as viewer accessible and will listen to what you want to say on immigration reform.” 

“All of our pieces are viewer accessible. There’s a whole world of information-“

“Slow it down, Mackenzie. We want the same thing, I am just in the unenviable place of trying to figure out how to serve two masters. The people that watch and that finance what we do. Right now I need viewers. Then we’ll make them smart.”

“A bit of bait and switch?”

“Let’s not throw that analogy around. But I knew that you’d understand.”

“I’m not happy about it. Plus I’m fairly certain I’m allergic to cats.”

“I didn’t expect less, Mackenzie. Well, not the cat thing, but about-”

She nods. “Okay.”

“Just don’t take it out on Billy.”

“Who now?”

“Will.”

Mackenzie looks confused. 

“McAvoy.”

The realization is now obvious on her face. “Right. What’s your deal with him anyway?”

“I knew him a lifetime ago, college. He’s looking for the next thing in his life, that’s all Mackenzie.”

“Ah!” She says. “I thought it was something, I just wasn’t sure.”

“I know. He’s all chiseled muscle and I’m, well, I’m not.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, Brad.” 

“No, no, I’m six foot. I’m not short.” He tells her, a smile on his lips. “But he would be good to get to talk about the legal issues that Sony is finding themselves tangled in. Now get back to work.”


	6. Wednesday, 16 November 2005

Wednesday, 16 November 2005  
Mid-Morning  
CNN Studios, Time Warner Center  
New York, New York

“You did a good job,” She says to him as he comes away from the set. It’s a very difficult subject.”

Will smiles at Mackenzie. “Well, I mean, look at all the issues they’ve gotten themselves tangled in.”

“Privacy, for one,” Mackenzie responds. “If I want to listen to a certain artist that doesn’t belong to that label, I should have the right. Also, if I have other music on my computer that I may not have purchased from them, how can I can keep them from erasing the files and making me buy it again? It’s one thing to want to protect a revenue stream, it’s another to generate a new revenue stream by nefarious means.”

“I don’t think the software is that smart, but I like that you’re thinking about it.” Will pauses a moment. “Hey, so listen, are you doing anything for lunch today. I’d like to talk more about this.”

Mackenzie stands up a little straighter. “Like to see if there’s more about this story we might talk about on air.”

Will looks at his shoes for a second before looking squarely at her. “Yeah, and other things.”

She smiles. “Yeah. Okay. Yeah. We can get out of here now, let me just grab my bag and we’ll get our coats?”

“That’d be great.”


	7. Sunday, 18 December 2005

Sunday, 18 December 2005  
Late Afternoon  
Will’s Apartment  
Brooklyn, New York

Mackenzie watches him as he reads the section of the newspaper she let him have. She’d already read most of the main section, cover to cover before handing it over. Sure, it was late in the afternoon, but it took her sometime after church to navigate her way back to his apartment. There was some light teasing about needing a confessional, but she admitted it was more habit than faith. Churches are the one thing that you can find anywhere, and as a kid, her family traveled a lot and church, it was consistent.

“Anything catch your eye?” She asks, more of a curiosity rather than trying to make conversation. 

“Someone stole a statue of Henry Moore in England.” Will says.

“By Henry Moore,” she corrects.

“Who would want a two ton piece of bronze?” He asks her.

“You answered your own question. Bronze. It’s probably been melted down and sold for scrap already. Which is sad, but not tragic considering there are copies of it around the world.”

“Would you feel that way about the Mona Lisa? It’s painted on wood. Let’s use the wood to light a fire and not worry about it because there are copies and photographs all over the world?”

She smiles at him. “I see your point.”

“Apparently, forty men dressed as Santa Claus knocked over some stores in New Zealand.” 

“Ah, yes, more hard hitting news.” She says, returning back to her section of the newspaper. 

“Does that kind of stuff make you crazy?” He asks her, placing his section of the paper down.

“I don’t think crazy is the word. I mean, everyone wants to do the best they can, right?”

“It’s human nature to want to be the best, if not actually doing the best.”

“Everyone wants to be at the top of the heap,” she amends. “Sometimes you have to start somewhere and I bet that those people that wrote those articles, while not actually providing any actual news are grateful to be heard need to not let the need to be read or heard outweigh what it is that they are trying to say.”

“It’s just like any profession. You have to gain experience to get somewhere. Let them have it. Not everyone hits a home run out of the gate.” Will says, waving his hand at her. “You would not believe how many nonsensical cases I had to work out of school. Because I had to. They may seem ridiculous and lacking in value, but there are things about people you learn doing that that isn’t in any book.”

“I think it bothers me because there’s been a shift in approach to the news thanks to television and now the internet.”

He sits up a little bit more. “Go on.”

“No one goes out anymore and finds out what happened on their own. Too many reporters take what they hear based on entirely too much faith from sources they don’t know personally. The news that we are seeing today lacks the creditability that journalists of old had.”

“So do you think that the person that wrote this article for the paper wasn’t creditable?”

“Let me just say I seriously doubt they picked up the phone and called the local constable to confirm that it was in fact, forty men dressed as Santa.”

“Ah ha. You’re not offended that it’s soft news but how in which the news is obtained.”

She blinks. “I suppose, yes. Journalism is not just repeating what happened. It’s the presentation of information that has been reviewed, discussed, decimated, scrutinized and reassembled to present a cohesive point of view.”

He laughs a little bit.

“What?” She asks. “What?”

“It’s just, well, I’ve just come out of the opposite business. As a lawyer, I needed facts to present so a jury could do all that other business.”

“I’d argue that those are skills that the average American off the street does not have.”

“You would not believe how much I counted on that.”

“You wanted your juries to be stupid?”

“No. Intelligence has nothing to do with those skills.”

“Okay, now that’s something I don’t even understand.”

Will waves a hand in the air. “Ranchers. Ranchers everything about cattle you can possibly imagine. How to raise them, how to breed them, when and what to feed him and when to sell them. I wouldn’t put a rancher on a jury for a case about a gangster that made a living buy having an army of kids selling untaxed cigarettes. I would never call a rancher unintelligent but I wouldn’t have them because the skills they do have would be difficult to apply to the case at hand.”

“So it’s less ‘what you know’ and more ‘how do you know it’. Or ‘how did you come to know it’.”

“Yeah, yes. How to apply it.” He smiles and before he can censor what comes out of his mouth, he just says it. “Hey, listen. I know this is kind of fast, but I was wondering what you were doing for Christmas?”

She glazes over for a minute. He changed gears on her and she takes a minute to adjust. “Uh, well, going to church.”

“I would be concerned that you go to church as frequently as you do, but after last night-“

“You’re a big fellow and I thought that it was incredibly unfair because your couch is so small. I mean, even I would have a hard time sleeping on this couch.” She pauses. “It was nice. Not what I intended.”

He has a charming smile when he wants it. “I could work on that.”

She looks away, bashful. “No, well, yes but not in a bad way. Wait, what were you asking me?”

“Christmas.”

“Right, Christmas. I was going to church and probably watching ‘It’s a Wonderful Life’ on the television or something.” 

“No family?”

She shakes her head. “Not this year. I mean, not that I couldn’t… what are you asking me again?”

“I’m on my own this year and I had a feeling that you were on your own this year and we could be on our own together.”

“That’s not exactly being on our own.”

“Nothing crazy. You can go to church and we can take a chilly walk in Central Park and then have some Chinese takeout together. Then call it a day.”

She pauses. “That sounds… nice. Yes. I’m going to Midnight Mass. It’s going to be kind of late.”

“Well, come here and we can take the walk in the morning.”

“Okay, yes.”


	8. Saturday, 30 December 2005

Saturday, 30 December 2005  
Early Afternoon  
Mackenzie’s Apartment  
New York, New York

“He was very sweet,” Mackenzie says, coming into her small living room with two mugs of coffee. “Very… dapper.”

“Dapper?” Molly asks, taking the cup of coffee from Mackenzie. 

“Dapper. Very neat.”

“I know what the word means, Mac, I was just surprised that’s the word you used. Have you been watching Capra movies again?”

“I find them very relaxing, you know this.”

“Anyway, tell me more about Mr. Dapper.”

“He was waiting for me out of the church. I have no idea how he knew when mass was going to be over and I mean, I could have easily missed him, but we didn’t. We walked for a while before my nose turned red and he hailed a cab. We got back to his place and had a little hot chocolate and yes, it was from the little packs with the things that aren’t even marshmallows as marshmallows. It was, sweet.”

“Then you spent the night and shagged him rotten.” Molly concludes.

“We had Chinese food first, but you’re not wrong.”

They laugh. 

Molly takes a drink of her coffee before speaking. “You don’t think you’re jumping into anything here, are you?”

“It could be a little… odd, especially if he’s on the network more, but he doesn’t work for me. There’s no conflicts of interest there.” Mackenzie responds, taking a drink of her own coffee.

“I meant after ‘he who shall not be named’.”

Mackenzie makes a face. “Yeah, I knew that. Maybe he’s the rebound, but he doesn’t feel like a rebound. I mean, I guess it helps that I ran back home for a bit to get my head on straight. Will doesn’t have to deal with all of my exposed insecurities.”

“It probably helps that Will looks nothing like, him.” Molly says, back to her drink.

“They may not look alike, but I definitely have a type. He’s smart, Molly. Wicked smart. Graduated law school at twenty one. Joined the Brooklyn’s DA office promptly after that. He was even a speech writer for George Bush. The Elder.”

Molly looks at her seriously. “But he’s not…”

“He’s not anything like Brian.” Mackenzie counters. 

“It’s only been a month.” Molly responds.

“Yeah, well, he doesn’t treat me like I’m below him.”

They are quiet for a moment before Molly breaks the silence. “So, what’d he get you?”

“A scarf! Let me show you.” Mackenzie sets her coffee cup down and scrambles to her feet. She disappears into her hallway for a moment before returning with a red scarf.

“And what did you get him?”

“A tie. Which is good because I almost bought him a pair of gloves but his hands. His hands are massive. I would have totally gotten the size all wrong.”

Molly laughs. “Massive?”

“Like immense. Plus, there’re not gentle.”

Molly’s eyes widen.

Mackenzie sees Molly’s reaction. “Not in a bad way, but like, well, like he’s seen his share of honest work. Yet I don’t think he could hurt a fly.”

Molly relaxes. “Ah, Cambridge red. Very nice.” She rubs the scarf between her fingers.

“I think Brad- my EP- told him. They’ve known each other outside of work, but I’m not clear on where, when or how. Thanks again for bringing the last of my stuff.”

“Not going to lie, I was tripping over the boxes,” Molly says with a smile.

“Sorry.”


	9. Thursday, 18 September 2006

Thursday, 18 September 2006  
Late Evening  
Mackenzie’s Apartment  
New York, New York

“Mother? Hi, mother. Hello. Yes, I can hear you now.”

Will smiles as Mackenzie laid across the top of him to answer her phone. He had known that she had been waiting to hear from her mother the better part evening. They had been together for ten months and she broached the question of meeting her parents, he hadn’t hesitated to say yes. Because he felt something for her that he really hadn’t quite felt for anyone before. 

He closes his eyes as she talks on the phone with her mother while she rested across his chest, exchanging pleasantries with her mother. 

They had kind of stumbled into each other all those months ago; he was looking to do something more with his life, she was just coming off an international stint. He wasn’t adrift, he was just looking for a change. He also wouldn’t admit that he was lonely, but she kept him from realizing that he wasn’t exactly surrounded by people vying for his attention anymore either. The television thing, it was nice. It kept him busy, kept her busy. They kept things simple, lots of conversation, a lot of casual dinners. 

Family had come up and where she was more than forthcoming with hers, he was guarded with his. She sensed it, didn’t press him about it and for that he was grateful. Will let Mac fill his void with her family, her life with her family. A diplomat’s daughter who had traveled the world and yet was amazingly grounded. He learned her preferences, hell, he enjoyed learning her preferences. She had no qualms about a two dollar hot dot from on the street corner but yet, learning the hard way, she was particular about her footwear. It was the little contradictions that he loved about her. Because she was exquisitely quirky. 

She covers the mouth piece as she whispers to Will. “They’re going to be in Baltimore. Can we get to Baltimore Sunday?”

‘Yeah,’ he mouths. “We’ll figure it out.” He whispers.

Mackenzie goes back to the phone. “I have to work on Friday, of course, but I’ll talk to Will, and see what his schedule is.” A pause. “No, he wants to meet you both. Actually, he’s been quite keen on it, which leads me to believe he suffered a head entry in his youth.”

‘Hey!’ he mouths to her.

She smiles back at him.


	10. Saturday, 28 July 2007

Saturday, 28 July 2007  
Afternoon  
CNN Studios, Time Warner Center  
New York, New York

“Anyway, we want to see if he can actually, you know, host a show. Trying to fill the Nancy Grace void.” Brad is playing with a baseball, rolling it between his hands as he sits behind his desk.

“You mean counter it?” Mackenzie asks, still reading something in front of her before looking up.

“People that want to watch Nancy Grace know where to find her. You know just as well as I do that there she attracts the lowest common denominator and people, in general, are smarter than that.” He turns towards the monitor that was playing the CNN feed.

“What is that going to do for the network? What type of viewer are we trying to attract and what kind of information are we going to provide them once they come here?” She asks these kinds of questions because they are expected to her and she braces herself for the parade of non-answer answers.

“Mac! You’re asking questions outside of my pay grade, okay? We have a programming block to fill months earlier than we expected.” A sigh. “Listen, just focus on making McAvoy look good and not sound like he’s smarter than me and he’d be your meal ticket in the control room for a long time. It’s the next step up the ladder, okay? When you’re at the top of the heap, then ask those hard hitting idealistic journalism questions we have all been dying to ask, alright? Make him look smart but not condescending and I’ll try to keep the shit in between… less shitty. Because it is shitty. Because I have to attract views to a show that’s replacing a show that’s probably going to be replaced by another show.”

Brad has her attention. “So what are we calling this now?”

“Out in the Open. We’ve got two weeks to get our act together and that’s why you’re here. I know you can help me do it. You’re on McAvoy and I’ll get an AP for Savage and an AP for each of the other names we have lined up. I have already talked to Will. He’s clearing his schedule and is on board, but you’re going to have to spend a lot more time with him for show prep. Pick two of the kids out there for your team. You are his personal Executive Producer in light of the fact that I can’t EP all these jokers.”

“Why are we doing it this way? It seems rather contrived.”

"I’m looking to give you a job, dummy. One of these guest hosts has to have it in them to fill the Paula Zahn void."


	11. Sunday, 9 September 2007

Sunday, 9 September 2007  
Late Afternoon  
Will’s Apartment  
New York, New York

“Say something,” she pleads. The silence is more painful than anything else. A relationship that was built on conversation, on banter, on bearing each other’s souls to each other ending with not a roar, but silence.

Because it was ending, she could feel it in her center. She had been honest with him, because she felt that it was the right thing to do. Because he deserved to know the truth. That she had been unfaithful and worse, after she realized what was going on, it was worse that she felt unkind. For in her search for validation from a previous wrong, she had caused another.

He has this look and it’s a look that she’s never seen before. She’s never seen anyone as broken as the person in front of her and she knows that she did that. It’s a memory that she will never ever really shake. Her eyes, well, she cries, but not hysterical. Her eyes blink out the tears because she wants to see if maybe he’s speaking to her, but that it’s so low, she doesn’t hear him. 

Of course, that’s not the case. She waits for a few moments longer in hopes that perhaps he would explode and she could bathe in his righteous anger. Nothing. Just, absolutely nothing. As if he’s suddenly shut down and he’s not even present in the room.

The moments become seconds, the seconds are minutes and the minutes stretch out so long that she finally steps back, her shame of standing in front of him waiting for nothing matching the shame of what she had done to him. 

When she finds herself out on the street, she hails a cab and she just propels herself to the office. Mackenzie know that Brad will be there and she starts to formulate her case. That what is going on in the Middle East is more important than what she’s doing on the air. She has to do before she loses the nerve, and before Will speaks to Brad. 

Because when the going gets tough, the tough get going.


	12. Monday, 10 September 2007

Monday, 10 September 2007  
Late Evening  
Atlantis World Media Headquarters; MetLife Building  
New York, New York

“I watched the clips. No clear format on the show, but he handles it well.” She doesn’t turn around, she doesn’t have to. Her frame is made a silhouette by the glow of the monitors that are in front of her. Multiple news channels are on the screens that light the room. She’s leaning on her desk, waiting for Charlie to join her.

“What do you think?” He comes around the desk and stands next to her, looking at her as she looked at the absently at the screens. He’s holding a drink in each hand, his glass a little fuller than hers, but the same, bourbon, neat. 

“He’s not hard on the eyes.”

“Leona.” It was a plea as well as the offer of the drink.

She turns to face him, absently taking the drink from him. “There’s something there. I mean, the work he did for us before, the legal reporting, all of 9/11. I mean, 9/11, which was extraordinary circumstances. I mean, a lot of people found themselves baptized by that fire. You want him, don’t you?”

“You know, there’s something there that I can’t quite put my finger on. I think he could become the figurehead of the network that we’ve been looking for.”

“Those days are gone, Charlie. We need pretty faces that people want to see. We need face, not a figurehead.”

“You just said that he was a pretty face.”

“You wouldn’t just pick a pretty face Charlie.”

“He’s something special Leona. He’s no longer with the Brooklyn District Attorney’s Office and he’s dabbling back in television.”

“He’s not a stray puppy.” She knows what it is that Charlie wants.

“We gave him his big break. I want to bring him home.”

Leona sighs. “Find his agent. You have my permission to back up the Brinks truck.”

“You’re not going to regret this, Leona.”

“I regret a lot of things Charlie, but I seriously doubt this is going to be one of them. As much as we disagree, you’ve never been wrong.”

“Can you write that down for me? I want to have that notarized and framed-“

“No.” She finishes her drink in one go, but uncharacteristically grimaces. “When did you slip back to the cheap bourbon?”

“I thought about playing on your sympathies if you hadn’t agreed with me so easily.”

“You mean get me wasted, Skinner.”

“Just to remind you about the good old days.”

“Well, they were old, I’ll give you that.”

“Come on Leona.”

She’s quiet for a beat. “There were a few moments.”

“More than a few,” came the retort.

“Then you ran away,” she reminds him.

His smile dims a shade. “I went to do my job.”

“Your calling, not your career.”

“Ours.”

“Not mine at the start. Well, I’m here now, you addle-brained old man.” 

“You’re more beautiful for it.”

“Go home Charlie, you’re drunk.”

“Probably. Have a good night Leona.” He toasts her as he leaves her office and she turns back to watching the wall of screens that were behind her desk.

She rolls the name on her lips: “Will McAvoy.”


End file.
